Coughs and Sneezes
by Naril
Summary: There needs to be a FLUFF genre in here. Only mild Hurt/Comfort. 'If there was one thing Ariadne hated, it was being ill.' Eames visiting does not help or does it?


_FLUFF! I am sick of having a soar throat and various colds for two months (this summer really sucks over here) and so I wrote this. Also I'm in the middle of some family-issues and am in want of some fluffyness XD _

_Oh,… yea and Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

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><p>If there was one thing Ariadne hated, it was being ill. Especially when she was supposed to be working on a maze for the second dream-level for a particularly challenging extraction.<p>

She just wanted to curl up and die if she was being honest. Which brought her to another thing she hated: the sound of the doorbell when she felt and probably looked like a bundle of phlegm.

She groaned under her covers. This meant having to speak; not something she particularly wanted to do with her voice trying to do a bad impression of Bonnie Tyler.

When she opened the door, she mentally added another thing to her list of things she hated.

Eames was standing in the doorframe, looking at her with a barely concealed grin. At being met with her glare, he quickly lifted a take-out bag he was holding.

"I come bearing food." He announced as if surrendering and she grudgingly had to admit that she had not eaten all day and at the prospect of food, her stomach gave a decisive rumble.

She grabbed for the bag, but he quickly pulled it out of her reach. "Na-uh! I told Arthur I'd check up on you and that's what I'll do."

She rolled her eyes at him and sniffed, but the food in the white bag was still tempting her. "Fine." She grated out hoarsely and let him past her into her apartment.

It was in more of a state than usual since being ill also meant that she did not manage to do all the chores necessary. Eames examined it as if casing a target and then swiftly entered her kitchen as if he owned it.

Ariadne followed him and watched him put the take-out bag on the counter and turn back around to lean against it, arms crossed. She could not help but feel self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"Why are you still here?" She tried to snarl after a while; temper short from days spent in bed but it was a raw croak instead. She came close to stomping her foot in frustration; why could she not just get better already?

"Have you been to see a doctor?" He asked, overlooking her little tantrum.

"Yesterday." She pointed at a box of medication on the counter next to him as if in explanation.

Without asking, (but really, what had she expected?) he took it and read over the label. "You must be worse than you said if they give you antibiotics." He commented and looked up at her again. "I came here to set aside Arthur's concern, not make it worse."

"Don't tell him then, I'll be back at work in a few days." She took the bag of food and sat on the table. Inside was a polystyrene bowl filled with some sort of vegetable soup. Ignoring him as he watched her, she grabbed a spoon from the drawer and started to sip it.

For the fact that she could barely taste anything but the phlegm in her throat, the soup was pretty good but maybe it was just her body being grateful for any nutrients.

Nonetheless as ravenously hungry she had felt at first, she put the spoon back down after a little less than half the bowl was empty.

"Not hungry?" The comment reminded her of the Forger's presence and she put her aching head in her hands to quench the headache she blamed him for. He did bring her food, she kept reminding herself. "I'm fine." She rasped, wondering when he would finally leave.

"You're not very grateful you know." He noted as if reading her mind and she mentally counted to ten with a sigh turned cough.

"What do you want, Eames?" She bit out between clenched teeth.

"Like I said, Arthur was worried about you."

"You mean he was worried about the deadline. Speaking of which, don't you have work to do?" She sniffled and pulled out an already well-used tissue to stifle her sneeze. The last thing she wanted to hear was that the man who had made it clear that their relationship was nothing but professional may be worried about her.

"Not until you finish the plan for your maze." Eames pulled out a whole new package of paper-tissues from out of nowhere and presented it to her.

"So you're bored and have been getting on his nerves so he sends you here to be occupied?" She asked, accepting the gift and pulling out a fresh tissue just in time for her next sneeze.

"I am insulted, you know I am perfectly professional."

She rolled her eyes at him again, but had to admit that for once he was telling the truth. He was a true professional, if he wanted to be.

"Look, I doubt I have any skin left on my nose, I can barely speak and I'm cold and tired." As if to underline her statement, she had to quickly lift her tissue again for a third sneeze. "I doubt I'm much fun to play with."

Eames moved behind her chair and pulled her resisting form into a hug from behind which she assumed was just to irk her. "You're always fun to play with, darling." He rested his chin on the top of her head not pulling away right away and she could not help but allow it, oddly comforted by the contact.

"Even when your hair is all sweaty and greasy and smells." He teased but did not move away, instead surprising her by planting a kiss on said hair.

"Not funny." She protested weakly, aware of how horrible she must look judging by how she felt. "I know I look like shit. I feel like it as well." Suddenly uncomfortable, she drew away and shivered at the loss of warmth on her back.

The Forger allowed it but put a hand to her forehead. "You've got a fever too, haven't you?" He asked and the tone of genuine concern had her look up as he walked back to the counter and with his back turned shrugged out of his jacket. She took this as another sign that he was making himself at home.

"I'll be fine once I get back to bed." She very badly wanted to do exactly that and vaguely noted how the oddly gentle expression in his eyes made her fidgety. "What do you want here, really?" She asked again, hoping he would leave after all, despite knowing better.

"Take care of you, apparently." He clapped his hands as if to ready himself for a particularly challenging task. "Don't worry." He added, "I'm doing this for my benefit as well. Who else will design my level for me?"

Ariadne only groaned and blew her nose.

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><p>He had carried out his threat and was sleeping on her couch for the night.<p>

The architect had threatened to call Arthur and tell him he was harassing her, but to no avail. Apparently she did not have what it took to drive Eames away, because he had simply told her not to be silly and sent her off to bed.

Right now, Ariadne could not have cared less, other matters more pressing at the moment.

The Forger had been right: she had a fever. Over night it had gotten worse and she had woken in the dark, wrapped in her duvet and what looked like all the blankets she owned (most probably courtesy of her unlikely care-taker) after a particularly disturbing fever-dream.

By now she felt that to say she felt miserable was definitely an understatement. She had curled into herself, shaking with chills under the massive pile of blankets.

In the light of the next day, she could not have said how it had happened, if she had actually called him, made some other noise or if the stupidly perceptive thief had just checked up on her by himself.

Either way, the next time she opened her bleary eyes, he was crouching by her bed and touched his hand to her too hot forehead.

The architect later decided that she had felt too cold and lethargic to move and that his calloused knuckles brushing over her clammy cheek was just to test her temperature.

If she were to continue her list of things she hated, the fact that the fever would not let her form a coherent thought right then would have definitely been on there.

"C-cold." It was all her fuzzy mind managed.

She was however, aware enough to feel the need to wipe off that slowly spreading smirk from his smug mug.

"Aren't you glad I stayed now?" He asked and got back to his feet, hopefully to hunt down more blankets for her.

She mumbled something low under her breath and curled into a tighter ball, her eyes squeezed shut.

"What was that, darling? I didn't quite catch it?" His voice came from somewhere behind her and she heard him rifle through her wardrobe.

"I said, it's not funny and stop digging it in." She croaked, trying to relax her quivering muscles. His low chuckle did nothing to improve her mood.

She heard him close the wardrobe doors and after a pause, the rustle of fabric.

Ariadne jumped when instead of another layer being added, her covers were lifted from her back and the bed dipped under the weight of another body.

"What are you doing?" If her voice had been normal, it would have been a shriek. As it was, it just sounded like a raw whisper.

"You're shaking like a leaf and you're already using every bloody blanket you possess. It's either this, or neither of us is going to get any sleep tonight." She could tell he was as tired as she was from the clipped tone he was using. Who knew he got cranky on little sleep?

"You didn't have to stay." She retorted, just as sharply.

There was another pause and she gulped when the guilt of lashing out like that started to sink in. When she heard and felt him start to move away, she blindly reached behind her and grabbed hold of a handful of ribbed fabric that she guessed to be his undershirt. "Wait."

The thought of being alone in this state again scared her more than she liked to admit. She still refused to turn around and look him in the eyes though. "Okay." She muttered instead, letting go and curling back in on herself, "okay, okay."

The Forger said nothing, but lay down behind her under the covers and pulled her shaking form firmly up against his bigger body.

It took a while for his body-heat to filter through the thick fabric of her pyjamas. There was an awkward silence until she stopped shivering and instead felt decidedly warm and comfortable despite herself.

When she relaxed, he eased the tight hold of his arms around her. "Better?" His voice startled her from her half-dozing state.

She nodded and as he started to slip from the covers, she quickly turned around to bury her face in his chest, not daring to look up at him but pressing herself against his warm front. She just hoped the fever would hide her blush if he did catch a glimpse of her face.

Eames stiffened first, then she almost sensed the grin on his face as he settled back down. "Careful there, love. I might think you like me in your bed and then what would Arthur say?"

Ariadne just snorted and only drew back a fraction so she could wipe at her runny nose. "Arthur should stop pretending to care about anything other than the job." She sniffled, vaguely noting how she was smearing snot onto his wife-beater but he did not seem to care, just pulled her closer again.

There was another long silence but this time she did not mind it, slowly dozing off again. She decided she would blame the fever again, since she could not very well admit that the way his scent surrounded her was soothing.

"Have I mentioned how our lovely stick in the mud always did say I was unprofessional?" He asked suddenly and she could not help but laugh but it quickly turned into a cough.

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><p>"Have you seen Eames?" She asked Arthur when she looked up from her finished dream-level. She had easily caught up on the lost time from when she had been ill.<p>

The Point Man looked up from his files for only a second and took in her work. "Not today. He called in to tell me he couldn't make it." He did not even bother looking at her but went straight back to work.

"But why not? We need to get this ready in a few days, right?" She asked, miffed at the dismissal. He was not usually this cold despite the professional distance he had started to keep since they had started to work together more often.

She caught herself a sharp look. "He said something about a cold and having lost his voice and the way he sounded made me think he probably wasn't faking it."

Ariadne gulped a little when he raised an eyebrow at her, clearly having made the connection. "Oh, well…" She started to say, "lucky you didn't catch it too."

It was a little weak, since she could read his thoughts quite easily. It certainly explained a lot.

"Yes, lucky that." He agreed and went back to work. "I take it you could always take the day off since that means you have no work left."

The architect stared at him only a second too long. "Uhm, sure. Just call me if something comes up."

He raised a hand in acknowledgement and she found herself packing her things together.

With one last look at the stiff Point Man she exited their workplace and reached for her phone as soon as she was outside. Time to repay a favour.

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><p><em>Oh, the fluff. I don't know why I look at Eame and think teddybear….slightly disturbing. And it's just the character, I don't think the actor looks particularly cuddly rofl. Anyhow, I think I need to get over the fluff again… I feel kind of sickly sweet now lol<em>


End file.
